PHYLISTHENES

With slothful step (what this?) my father stands still, And turns his face and holds him self, in doubt what thing to do. Who may be happy, rather would he myser yet remain? Yet should it not refused be, if God the kingdom gyve. your brother byddꝭ you rain. From whence it fell, yet piety is wont to turn at length: And love vnfaynde, repairs again his erst omitted strength. of what deceit are you so dreadful here? to you what hurt can he? dread you to be beguylde when caught you are? To late it is to shoes the train in middle of the snare. But go we on, this (father) is to you my last request. God turn it to the best, That well devised is for good, pass forth with cheerful pace. What cause the dryues (oh father deer) thus from thy native land, Now seen to shrink? what makes thee thu from things so good at last Withdraw thy self? thy brother comes whose res be overpassed, And half the kingdom gives, and of the house ylacerate, Repairs the parts: and thee restores again to former state. Yet overcome what ever stays, and thus does let your mind, And see what are at your return, prepared for you to find. You may oh father reign. You shall it to your children leave. heefe thing is pour.